


Be With Me

by crazyparakiss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Pregnant, If You Bitch About Spoilers I'll Force Choke You, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Post-Canon, Reylo - Freeform, Short One Shot, Spoilers, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: Tatooine reminds her of Jakku, but it’s a desert she’s chosen.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 24
Kudos: 221
Collections: TROS Reylo Fix-it Fics





	Be With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PalenDrome (nerdherderette)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/gifts).



> I'm not supposed to be writing anything that isn't the original projects I am supposed to finish, yet...here we are. 
> 
> To say that The Rise of Skywalker filled me with feelings would be an understatement. This is totally full of spoilers since this is a short, hastily written (in a few hours) reaction I had after seeing the film for the first time. 
> 
> I loved all of it when I fully expected to hate the hell out of it. 
> 
> I never, in a billion years, thought I'd write a Star Wars fanfic. It's one of the rare things from my youth I've left largely untouched. Because I find all of it perfect (yes, all of it, fuck off). I even found The Rise of Skywalker perfect since no Star Wars love story is easy or without sadness. Like I've only read one fic and I beta'd it (it's superb, by the way!). That's how fulfilled Star Wars has made me through the years. 
> 
> BUT I NEEDED SEX AND FORCE PREGNANT SO HERE WE ARE! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it if you're so inclined to read, and if not I probably won't know for a good, long while as I'm going to hole up to meet a few deadlines. 
> 
> Also, I apologize for the title, I figure after TRoS there will be a lot of fics titled this (didn't bother checking) but IDGAF I LOVE THAT LINE OKAY!?
> 
> EVERY SINGLE MISTAKE IS MINE. 
> 
> Much love and as always...
> 
> May the Force be with you, my dudes. 
> 
> P.S. 
> 
> Nerd,  
> I'm glad to have a Star Wars flaily friend in you. <33333

  
  
  


Tatooine reminds her of Jakku, but it’s a desert she’s chosen. A world away from the tattered remains of The First Order and those who left them all behind on the way to victory. 

Sometimes Rey wonders if the wins are truly won. Politics always seems rooted in corruption and those whose agendas outweigh the good of others. Slavers, spice runners, child soldiers—all of them still exist in the galaxy because there’s enough money to make people in power forget their morals. 

Images and histories had flooded her when the darkness crept into her. In that cold, dank world where the truth of her lineage had resided. 

Palpatine imbued her with all his memories. All his shady deals done in secret, in opulent rooms that were sealed by gilded doors. She distrusts politicians. She distrusts all of it, but there is peace in Rey due to the fact world-destroying ships can no longer fly. Let them rot in the seedy remains of Exegol. 

For now, at least, there is no imminent threat and that is as close to peace as Rey can hope to be. 

Beneath her tunic, and just under the skin, she feels a soft ripple of movement. 

One that has been growing stronger by the day. 

_ Be with me.  _ Rey thinks as she takes a moment to breathe. Her hands grip the counter of the kitchen she’s been repairing—the one of an abandoned moisture farm where Master Luke’s energy still remains. 

*

The desert is silent most days. Rey has no issue from raiders after the one time they tried to catch her off guard. The lightsaber has terrified them enough to send them scampering back to wherever their tents popped up for the night. 

She has even less of an issue from the Hutts—in fact, Rotta personally sent her supplies she would need after she asked permission to occupy and restore the abandoned moisture farm. 

He told her Skywalkers were welcome friends to him, even if they had not been to his father. 

She thinks of these things as she tries, in vain, to clean the sand from every crevice. It clings to everything, a constant irritant that feels as if it belongs to another. Rey never hated the sand before. 

“I’m lonely,” she tells her growing bump when the suns set and night brings cold winds upon them. 

Her stomach remains still, the being within also absent as Rey rests her head against the door of an old cabinet. 

_ Be with me.  _

She closes her eyes, and nothing comes. 

*

Chewie insists on bringing her food and things she never asks for. He bangs about in her kitchen, constantly snarking back when she tells him she’s fine. 

Rey, in secret thoughts she doesn’t share, is glad it’s Chewie and not Finn or Poe. She’s not sure she could handle either of them and their searching, disappointed gazes. 

“Thanks, Chewie,” she tells him when he gives her a bowl of warm soup. 

He waves a large, hairy hand—trilling in Shyriiwook that it’s nothing to feed her. His gaze, when he’s gone quiet, lingers on the growing curve of life within her. 

Chewie doesn’t ask, but Rey knows he has an idea about the father. The one it hurts to speak of, and so he leaves the question between them. A chasm that hurts like a festering wound. So neither of them picks at it—too tired of feeling the sting. 

When he leaves, the next morning, she watches the Falcon rise with a wistful longing gripping her heart. 

_ Be with me.  _

As usual, there is silence in the void around her. 

*

Rey enjoys going to the pod races. There’s freeing anonymity that comes from being lost in a sea of a crowd. There are no human racers—only the ancients reminisce about the human boy who won once long ago. 

The first Skywalker who set the legend of the Skywalkers in motion. If Rey focuses enough she can see him there, as he was, bright-eyed and enamored with a beautiful dark-haired girl. A smile comes, unbidden, to her chapped mouth. It’s an expression full of longing for what could have been. 

A future that could’ve been a place without her and a place without Ben. 

“A world without you,” she tells the hard bump that conceals her still-growing child. And that is a world Rey honestly wants no part of. Horrible and as selfish as that seems, she’d see worlds destroyed for this being within her. 

As the crowd cheers for the winning racers, she closes her eyes and smoothes a hand over the excited ripple beneath her skin. 

_ Be with me. _

All that echoes back at Rey is the sound of this stadium on Tatooine. 

  
*

The baby comes at the height of Tatooine’s summer. When the world is on fire, or so it seems to Rey who sweats in her birthing bed. 

Chewie is with her but this time he has Poe and Finn. Both of whom bring more anxiety than they do comfort, but when they smack into each other in their rush to gather rags and water Rey laughs. A welcome distraction from the pain that wracks her body with the breaking of birth. 

“If I ever see Ben again I’m going to break his hand for this,” Rey screams as she grips at Finn’s arm. 

“Only his hand?” Poe quips, though his voice lacks its usual cockiness. His dark eyes are wide and terrified as Chewie crouches between her thighs. Ready to catch the child, unbothered by all of the chaos, Chewie is a gift Rey is grateful to have. 

A cry fills the room after the worst of the contractions grips her—tearing up her spine—and Rey flops back against her pillow. Catching her breath as the child screams for the warmth it has just left. 

“A boy,” Finn murmurs. Awe heavy in his tone. “It’s a boy, Rey,” and this time he sounds excited. 

Chewie offers the boy to Rey, and she cradles him against the sweaty skin of her chest while she counts every finger and toe. He is perfect. Even filthy with blood and vernix matting his dark hair, she finds perfection in this being her body has made. 

When the room grows still, her child suckling at her sore breast, Poe asks again, “So, why his hand?” 

Rey closes her eyes, chuckling, even as she silently prays. 

_ Be with me.  _

When nothing comes she opens her eyes, “He touched my hand and that’s how Anakin came to be.” 

“Just his hand,” Finn sounds doubtful. 

“Damn,” Poe nods, impressed. “He really was powerful.” 

Rey tunes them out, resting as her son rests, and again reaches out with her mind. 

_ Be with me.  _

All she can feel is the Force in their son—contentment and peace. 

*

Years pass like minutes when a child grows. Anakin moves through infancy so quickly Rey swears only a day has passed between his birth and him running through the home. His newfound obsession involves chasing Kreetles and laughing brightly when they escape. 

Rey smiles when he turns to her with bright, dark eyes and a grin that consists of two gleaming bottom teeth. He reminds her so much of his father, of who he must’ve been when he was young and Leia’s to love. 

“Lunch before we go to Mos Espa?” She asks and Anakin rushes to her with another of his infectious giggles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She prepares him a small cup of blue milk and warms a sphere of Ahrisa bread. 

As he eats happily—dirtying his face with sticky crumbs—Rey watches him with a soft gaze. She can easily see his father with them, his long, beautiful fingers reaching out to remove the mess Anakin has made of himself. It causes her heart to ache with longing. 

_ Be with me.  _

Always she reaches for him. As always before he never reaches back. 

*

Chewie has Anakin helping with the Falcon as soon as he’s walking and by four he’s able to discern the tools Chewie calls for in his native Shyriiwook. 

Rey brings them lunch to the sandy dune beside her home, where the Falcon rests. Still old, still just as fast as she once was. 

Wherever Han is Rey hopes his soul is happy that his grandson is removing capacitors with ease.

“Anakin,” she shouts. “Don’t take things off without being told to.” 

He acts guilty, but Rey knows that impish grin well and she’s not buying the act. “Chewie is staying for a while. Don’t break the ship or he might want to leave faster,” she warns. Anakin glances up at Chewie, a worried moue on his mouth. Without a word spoken Chewie reaches for Anakin with his large, furry hand and ruffles his hair. 

Rey grins at the image they make and wonders if these moments ease the disquiet in Chewie’s heart about his lost brother, his lost god-son—so much loss surrounds them. But Anakin is a hope they all didn’t know they needed. Until he came until he grew into the little Ben who looks up at them both now. 

After a moment, Rey says, “Let’s eat lunch in Mos Espa before we go haggle with that Toydarian.” Chewie agrees and is almost as enthusiastic as Anakin. 

As Rey follows behind them to their small speeder, she breathes deep and calls out into the silence. 

_ I don’t need you with me. Though I still wish you were.  _

_ * _

Torino runs a small diner that sees less of the rough travelers and locals that one usually finds in the cantinas. Here, in a place with only five tables, there’s no spice dealings and no dancing slaves trying to entice patrons for their masters’ pockets. 

Rey and Anakin sit at their usual table while Chewie stops to talk with someone he recognizes. At another table, a man sits with his daughter and wife. Both of them smiling down at the child as they wait patiently for her to decide what she wants to eat. 

Anakin watches the man, and before he asks the question, Rey tenses—waiting for the words to come. 

“Where is my dad?” 

_ Gone. Never returning from stardust and energy.  _

_ Gone. Abandoned me despite the fact he is everywhere in me.  _

“Someplace far away.” She tells him with a watery smile. One that feels as if it will crumble at the slightest provocation. 

“Will he come back soon?” 

Rey deflects. Something she’s adept at according to Finn. “We will talk about it later, for now, let’s find something to eat.” 

She smoothes a hand through Anakin’s dark, wavy hair. 

_ Why aren’t you with me?  _

*

Three moons light the crests of each sandy dune like a wave. A waterless sea that holds her gaze as she stands alone in the still night. 

She closes her eyes, allowing the cooler air of evening to brush against the skin of her shoulders and thighs. 

Through the stillness, his deep voice comes. 

_ I am with you.  _

Her lightsaber is in her palm, igniting as she turns. The yellow of her blade lights his face—the same face she kissed before he smiled and fell on Exegol. 

“No,” she whispers. “It can’t be you.” 

He smiles—that same deprecating smile she’s only seen in his vulnerable moments. The times his soul was naked before hers. 

“Who are you?” She demands, pressing closer with her right ignited weapon. 

“I’m Ben, Rey, but you already know that.” His own weapon ignites—a beam of violet from a black and silver hilt. “Test me and know who I am.”

He meets every strike with a block—easily—as if he knows her mind better than she does. He dances with her as if it’s a dance they’ve made a thousand times before. And like all the times before though she rushes him with rage he blocks her with his own melancholy. His self-loathing that comes from being the source of her rage. 

Gentle and full of suffering. 

“Ben.” Rey cries as she kills the blade of her weapon, tossing the hilt to the sand as she rushes into his arms. His own weapon he drops, unmindful of where it falls as his long arms wrap around her body. 

One of Ben’s hands cradles the back of her head, his beautiful fingers carding through the long spill of her dark hair. “Rey,” he breathes against her. 

“How?” She asks. Clinging to shoulders that are so solid and real. Breathing in the scent of his skin—a memory that’s haunted her all these years. A smell she tried to chase in her need to remember him. One that always eluded her. 

“Does it matter how?” He counters. 

_ No.  _

“Yes.” 

With a sigh he releases her. Stepping back and holding out his hand. “I will show you.” 

Rey, despite the mood, laughs. At his questioning and confused expression she says. “I swore I’d break your hand next time I saw you. Yet, here I am...” she steps up to him and presses her palm to his, “Taking it again.” 

Through the Force, he shows her his training in the beyond. How old masters—ones who filled her—came to him, to train him and guide him home. 

“I thought it was evil and unnatural to cheat death,” Rey says when the images quit flowing but their hands are still connected. 

“I didn’t cheat death, I returned to you—apparently there’s a difference.” 

She cups his cheek—smooth but with the slight drag of imperceptible stubble. His eyes track every nuance of her face while her own eyes search his. Lingering on the mouth she longs to taste. 

“So taste it,” he challenges and Rey has never backed down from this challenger. 

Their initial collision comes with the same explosion of a star. It’s loud, it’s messy and cataclysmic. So intoxicating she could come alone from this, but she’s been starved and is hungry for this. 

Lust consumes her far more than the hunger of her old, long-buried rage. This is what she’s fantasized about for years. The imaginings she held in secret as she touched herself beneath the hot spray of her shower. 

Rey doesn’t bother removing her short sleep pants after she’s opened his pants—revealing a generous cock that her body throbs to feel. 

“Rey,” Ben whispers. Moonlight glows in his dark eyes, making them shine more than usual and she leans closer—devouring his mouth as she pulls her sleep pants aside enough to lower herself on him. 

Pulling him into her creates a burning stretch that causes Rey to gasp. A strange rumble moves through her—rattling the world around her with the charge of this connection. 

When he’s fully in her he asks, “Are you alright?” 

“Move,” she commands. 

He does. Ben pushes up into her, fully stretching her around his thick girth then he flips them to where she’s lying with her back to the sand. “Later, when you’re used to it, I’ll have you ride me. For now...I want to love you right.” He tells her. Kissing Rey's mouth before he pulls back to remove the light linen of his tunic’s shirt. His body is still pale but firm. Rippling muscle that she runs her fingers against. Ben catches her wrist, bringing her fingers to his lips—to kiss the tip of each one. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. And you’re every dream come to life.” 

As he speaks he takes a knife to the side of her sleep pants. Tearing them enough to remove them without pulling out of her body. Then he pulls her top off of her—exposing her breasts to the moons, the cool air, and his ravenous gaze. 

“Am I better than your dreams?” Rey challenges as she holds her legs open wider—allowing him to see the obscene parts of her he fills. 

His nostrils flare as his dark eyes stare at the place they are connected. “You defy every imagining.” Ben rocks within her. Delicious friction. And she arches to meet him. His mouth is on her throat—his hands gripping the bend of her knees to hold her at the angle that allows him to reach her deepest. 

“Be with me,” she chants—afraid it is a dream as he brings her closer to completion. 

“I’m with you,” Ben whispers against her neck. Then presses his teeth into her flesh. “I’ll never let you be alone again.” 

With that promise she comes. Her vision going white as she does. 

*

Morning light falling across her closed eyelids is what wakes Rey. 

Her bed is achingly empty and a sob leaves her when she sits up.  _ What a cruel dream.  _ Rey thinks as she moves out of the bed—her back aches but she doesn’t dwell on that as she pulls on her clothes. 

Chewie is supposed to return the next day from some seedy dealings he’s been doing for various gangs located in the Outer Rim. Rey doesn’t butt in on that business—it’s not her place to tell him how to live when he’s done loads more living than she has. Just like he doesn’t butt in on any of the choices she makes regarding all aspects of her life. 

Finishing pinning her hair, Rey takes a deep breath and prepares to face the son who shares his father’s face. 

When she comes out of her sleeping quarters Rey finds Anakin at the table—picking at a full breakfast and she frowns. 

_ Who cooked that? _

As she enters the kitchen she finds a large, broad-backed man standing at the fire—pushing meat around on the fire. Rey’s breath catches when she sees the wavy dark hair she gripped in her dream. 

He turns, his dark, soulful eyes holding her gaze.  _ It wasn’t a dream.  _

Rey rushes him. Jumping into his arms, burying her face in the crook of his neck as Ben’s hands stroke up and down her spine. 

“Mama,” Anakin beams. Bouncing up and down on his chair. “My dad came back.” 

“He did,” she laughs through happy sobs. 

*

The night comes again after a long day spending time with Anakin. His awestruck eyes as he watched Ben and his loving embraces move something in Rey. Fill her with the contentment she’s been lacking.

Ben carries Anakin to his small bed in his own room. Settles him amongst the soft toys Chewie brings when he returns after every trip, and Ben’s large hands brush through Anakin’s wavy hair. 

He never uses words like  _ love _ , but Rey can feel Ben’s affection in the Force around them. 

She can taste it in his kiss when he presses her into the mattress of her bed. 

_ Our bed,  _ his voice echoes through Rey’s mind. 

As his fingers part her clothing—exposing her skin to the room—Rey reaches for him and pleads. “Be with me.” 

Ben’s smile is affectionate, warm and full of boyish delight. As it was the first time she kissed him. He bends closer, his love for her pulsing through the Force around them. His words are hardly a whisper. But Rey catches every sound. “I am with you, always.” 

Within the circle of Ben’s arms, Rey knows true peace. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
